Tоска
by ShadowManz
Summary: I wear this thistled crown upon my throne of deceit. I have become full broken thoughts- broken beyond repair. Everyone I know goes away in the end. And you could have it all, my kingdom of no worth. I will let you down. I will make you hurt


**I would like to thank William Sable for editing the first two chapters of this fic.**

_As Free as Starved Wolves_

I watched my breath flow out of my mouth, turning into a silver wisp. The frosty air bit into my ears and nose and I held back a sneeze. My soot colored ears were pricked and alert.  
Hoofsteps had woken me up.  
It wasn't the soft pad of my mother or the awkward dragging of my father's gait. This was heavy, and made an odd clank with each step.

It was a soldier. Soldiers weren't supposed to enter this hallway. I tensed my muscles and strained my ears, it was becoming louder and steadier. My heart fluttered in a panic. I sat up and snapped my head toward the door. I could hear the metal armor grating against the floor. It was an unsettling sound that made the fur along my spine tingle. Then the rattling stopped and was replaced by another sound.

_Click._

Just as the doorknobbed twisted, I quickly turned my harlequin gaze steely and flared my wings. There was no need to show that I was nervous to this intruder. The door shifted open and pale light stung my eyes. When the blur faded, I was greeted by a dark metal face.  
A metal face that did not change its vicious scowl, except for the lower part. The smooth cheek plates were almost as dark as my fur, and were gracefully curled to resemble a snarl.

The champron was regulation, but I could see the things that it had not covered. Flickering purple eyes, and a maroon furred chin and nose.  
The criniere clung tightly to the soldier's neck, with tufts of fur belonging to some other animal sticking out. The fur kept the cold metal from biting into the pony's flesh. If there's one thing you should know about living in the Arctic, it's that before some animal gets at you or you run out food, the cold will kill you.

In a swift movement, the soldier entered and shut door.

"You're not supposed to be here," I said, my voice quaking a little with uncertainty.

"Who's a-gonna stop me?" the soldier replied. I thought this soldier was a stallion, with broader shoulders and a deeper voice than mine. He spoke in a slurred pattern, not at all like the refined cadence of my mother or the rushed gibberish of my father. It was so cluttered that it took a moment for the meaning of his speech to register. When he noticed my hesitance to respond, the soldier smirked slightly, but his gaze remained calm.

I swallowed uneasily and felt the harshness of my gaze drop. The tip of my tail twitched restlessly.

"What is it?"

The soldier's gaze sparked teasingly. "I could help you."

"Help me?" It wasn't that I was shocked by his voice change, I legitimately didn't understand what he meant.

"I could help you," He repeated. "Time is running out for your family."

A feeling of wonder and fright filled my chest. I've heard that phrase before. _Time is running out _and _expiration date_. I've heard my mother try in vain to explain those terms to my father. She always brought it up when she thought I wasn't paying attention. I understand that it meant when we'd no longer be alive just like rotten food, but I never took it seriously. I have good blood, and nopony would dare touch somepony with my lineage.

I raised an eyebrow and murmured quietly, "How? Nopony can kill me. I've got Commander Hurricane's blood."

The soldier smirked, but now wore a bored leer.

"You know what will happen when you die? You're going to rot in the ground. And ponies are going to go on living. They will forget all about you. And when you rot, do you think it's going to matter if you were kin to one of the greatest military leaders ever? You're dead. And nopony will want remember you, because all you left behind in this world is a bunch of useless organs and a pile of feathers."

I narrowed my eyes into slits at the sharpness of his tone.  
"Do you know when they're gonna kill me?"

The stallion shook his head.

"No...we've been given orders to prepare ourselves to leave this wretched place, however. I wasn't told what they planned to do with you."

_They_. That meant the ponies far away. The ones who governed my life and the lives of my ancestors.

A cold shudder trickled down my back. It was strange, thinking of these powerful beings that I've never seen, and yet they seem to control _everything_.

"How can you help me?"

"How do you think? Don't birds break out of their egg-shell in order to fly, not to crawl on the ground pathetically? For what reason do you possess those wings? Isn't the sky in this birdcage a little too tiny?"

I flapped my wings. The generated wind kicked up some dust and sent a few pages from my desk scattered on the floor. My mother said I should be proud of them, as they showed the evidence of my parentage. They were large and had slots at the end, between the primaries. The gloss of the sooty plumage was something my mother had always tried to keep straight and clean, but I didn't really care much for preening. It seemed more of a griffon thing to me.

"What is your name? I'm Storm Rider," I asked. I saw his gaze glitter with a sudden uneasiness.

"I'm a soldier. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

"Names are important. Even to soldiers," I objected. Names are the one word that can identify us. The only thing I own is my name- nothing else in this world. If you aren't brave enough to tell me your name then you are a rather cowardly soldier.

"Let's say I'm _not_ who I say I am, can you then say who _you _are? You are the first pony I have spoken to outside of my family, and I'm dissapointed in all frankness. I can handle myself," I said firmly. "Even if there is trouble."  
The soldier blinked his purple eyes, lazily almost.  
"Alright then. I'm not insisting on anything. You're blood will be spilled- not mine."

And with a casual nod, he exited, just as briskly as he entered.

I sat on my bed, clutching the wool sheets. Why am I scared? I've crossed no boundaries, given no trust, taken no risk. I should be fine. It was my choice that frightened me.

Forcing myself out of bed, I made my way through hallway. At the end of the corridor, I took note that no soldier was standing guard here. No wonder why that stranger had been able to get into my room, the pony on watch is late. In the courtyard, a thin layer of snow had smothered the ground, but I could still see the taupe color of the barren soil. The snow felt soft underhoof, and crisp air carried the faint smell of smoke. I spotted a few guards some fox lengths away playing cards and mumbling to each other. I saw a few more standing watch on the rampart. I was never told whether they were supposed to keep anypony from getting at my family, or to keep my family from escaping. I suddenly became more aware of their presence on the walls, forever vigilant.

Inside the kitchen, I popped open a crate with my crowbar and sifted through it until I found my breakfast: a can of peaches and a bit of hardtack. I've never had fruit that didn't come in a can, but in all honesty, canned peaches are one of my favorite things to eat. The hardtack is only eaten to fill me up.

As I was licking some of the peach juice from my muzzle, my parents entered.

"Shh...shh…" My mother- Moonflower- murmured into my father's ears.

"Be careful!" My father- Sage -was whispering frantically. "Check to see if a door is open before going through it. If it's not open, you gotta open it!"

These random panic attacks weren't unusual from Sage. He was a strange stallion, but he had done nothing to get us killed so I could tolerate him. Although...even though I could understand why soldiers would give him these exasperated or disgusted looks...I can never understand _why _he was like this. He had a dark crimson coat, with dark yellow eyes and a greene mane that stood up like a mohawk. He was small, but had a rather large head and small eyes. His cutie mark was an ink pot, symbolizing his gift for writing.

Moonflower was a dark coated pegasus like me. She had these twinkling pale blue eyes that were like chips of ice. She had a silver striped mane. She had broad shoulders and thick tufts of fur on her hooves.

I think she was a used to be soldier here. I could see the other guards giving her looks occasionally. Some were looks of respect, others were disapproving. And once, I even saw her share a few words with a guard. No soldiers at the Fort were allowed to talk to my family. They were only here to do their job. If Moonflower was a soldier, how could she be my _mother_? I have never heard her say that she loved Sage- and I've never heard Sage say that he loved Moonflower (although, I highly doubt he could grasp a concept like love). I never felt that anything besides a vague companionship existed between them.

"Did you see the soldier that's supposed to be guarding our quarters?" I asked.

Moonflower gave her head a toss. "No."

"He probably got hit by a door," Sage chittered.

I gave them a slow nod, got up, and shuffled away, dragging my crowbar behind. That's how our days went.

I would wake up first and have breakfast. My parents would then enter and we would then share words. They had no special meaning. It was just a way to exercise our vocal cords- so we wouldn't become mute all together. My father would then rave about some nonsense and lock himself in his study, only to come out to show us his calligraphy. We would both give empty praises. Moonflower would stay in the courtyard, trying to sun her wings with the weak light that managed to break through the pale sky. I would simply lug around my crowbar, hacking at any ice that threatened to grow on door hinges.

When dinner came, we would all file into kitchen and eat something- mostly whatever came out of the nearest can and hardtack.

It was like this everyday of my life.

Snow was beginning to cling onto my gray mane. And that gave me a ray of hope.  
I approached the hallway that led into our quarters- my belly fur almost scraping the ground, my ears and tail low.

I saw the guard, stumbling toward the corridor with a sweaty and sweet musk. His steps were clumsy and he wasn't focused.  
Just as the pony turned around, getting ready to keep watch on our quarters, I lifted my crowbar and struck his nape. His head tilted back and his mouth flew open, making a gurgling sound.

He collapsed on the floor. Blood trickled out of his nostrils and bubbled from his mouth. I dragged him away from the pale light of the sun and into the shadows. I propped him up against a few barrels and reached for his weapon- a knife.

It wouldn't be long until somepony noticed his crooked shape and sounded the alarm.

And I could wait.  
I have always been waiting.


End file.
